Afterwards
by BofBanoff
Summary: Sandy knew it was wrong of him, but he had hoped rehab would “fix” Kirsten of her problem, not create another one which Sandy had even less idea of how to solve. Kirsten wasn’t drinking, she seemed fine to everyone else but Sandy knew she had changed.
1. Chapter 1

**Afterwards**

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own the O.C. Or Friends – the character of Fun Bobby for those who don't know, is someone who is really fun, until he gives up alcohol then he is really dull. Not that important, just for those who don't get the reference.

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_

_The sign I couldn't read, or a light I couldn't see, some things you have to believe, but others are puzzles, puzzling me_

_ - Coldplay, Speed of Sound

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_

As Sandy entered the Cohen's not so humble abode, he immediately sensed his wife's presence. The boys were out, he knew, on a "road trip" as Seth had pronounced it, to San Francisco. Show Ryan some of the sights. Even though Ryan was a Californian boy born and bred he'd seen surprisingly little of his own state.

The house was still, silent. The gentle click of the door and the "Honey, I'm home" rang through the house. The words invaded the hallway on the innermost level, separating the particles on their forceful journey to the living room.

Sandy briskly followed his words, as if to take advantage of the protection and the path they forged for him. And there as he had sensed, was Kirsten.

Kirsten sat on their sea-blue sofa, her knees resting on one of their plump cushions. Her head was tilted to one side, in concentration, allowing Sandy a good view of her. Her blonde hair had been styled, and with the weight she had regained at Suriak, she looked gorgeous. Her face no longer wore that pinched, pained look; there was an altogether calmer air about her. But Sandy avoided looking too closely, for those baby blues of hers looked despondent. Almost empty.

Kirsten was picking at a tangled gold necklace. Her version of a worry ball. This piece of jewellery was currently tangled since 1997 – her new pet project.

"Hey babe". Sandy injected a tone of cheerfulness into his voice, but it didn't quite ring true to his ears.

Kirsten looked up, raised her eyes to his.

"Hey."

She smiled, her eyes crinkled, but Sandy couldn't detect a sparkle in those eyes.

"You ok hon? It's so quiet in here, you want me to turn the tv on? Radio?"

"No, I'm fine thanks" replied Kirsten, still in that quiet, husky tone.

She looked down at the necklace, hesitant, unsure of herself. Sandy knew it was wrong of him, but he had hoped rehab would "fix" Kirsten of her problem, not create another one which Sandy had even less idea of how to solve. Kirsten wasn't drinking, she seemed fine to everyone else but Sandy knew she had changed. She still had the ability to pull the wool over people's eyes on how she is feeling, she breezed through a Newpsie meeting last week. As Dr. Julie Cooper said, if she can do that and not turn to the bottle, she's fine, Sandy. But Sandy knew better.

"So how was your day?" Kirsten brightened considerably and Sandy is even taken in for a moment. Ah, there it is. She can really be a pro when she wants to be. Yet Sandy's not fooled, and she knows it, and he knows she knows. This game of bullshit's not fooling anyone.

Kirsten's never been a big talker, and since Seth was born she'd never been lost for conversation. But things have been strained in the Cohen household. Under the cheerful façade, Sandy has noticed Seth struggling to keep the conversation going, worried about his mom. Kirsten would never ignore him, or be rude, but she was very subdued and even Seth can only run on his own steam for so long.

Maybe she's fed up of talking after months of rehab, Sandy reasoned. Maybe she's all talked out.

Sandy was surprised how quickly Ryan forgave Kirsten, faster than Seth. He always knew Ryan would, at least on the surface, but he was astonished when he saw that he truly forgave her. She had sat him down when she had returned, had a good long chat with him on the patio, and whilst lurking in the kitchen he saw them finally rise and hug each other. They had grasped onto each other, eyes closed, almost peaceful. Maybe Kirsten had helped Ryan figure out some issues he had had with Dawn. Who knows? He never heard about their conversation, it was something totally theirs.

Sandy had seen the similarities between the two. The subtle and the obvious. Sometimes, when they had been on a family trip out, where no one knew them, he sometimes became irrationally jealous when they said Ryan "looks the spitting image of his mom". Maybe it's the fact that outsiders think he is Kirsten's son, but they wouldn't image him to be his flesh and blood. Insane, he knows, but he can't help it – he wonders if this is what Kirsten felt like with Seth. At least Seth wasn't referred to as the milkman's son, he supposed.

But with Ryan and Kirsten, silence speaks louder than words. Maybe Kirsten doesn't understand Ryan's background, but she understands him. A glance between them can mean as much as a thousand words between Seth and Sandy. Sandy wonders if his wife knows how he envies that ability – that relationship which is truly unique and theirs. No, he decided, she probably doesn't realise it's there. Sandy knows she's felt isolated in their family at times, out of touch with their humorous banter. His easy camaraderie with the boys is sometimes resented, he knows that. Kirsten may be top dog in the business world, but deep down, she's insecure as hell when it comes to relationships and emotions. Not that she'd admit it.

Kirsten's not touched a drop of alcohol since she returned, but Sandy's still walking on egg shells around her – and dammit she knows.

Maybe she's going into depression.

That thought jolts Sandy, he is suddenly aware of every nerve ending.

Kirsten's never been noisy, but she's never been this quiet.

Sandy knows he should think things through, but a case of verbal diarrhoea comes out instead –

"So sweetheart, anything you wanna talk about? You seem really quiet, can I help at all? I could take you out, we could go golfing again. I know you don't really like it but I think you should give it another go, you're definitely improving and the fresh air would do you good –"

"No, thank you," Kirsten cuts him off, gently, leaving Sandy feeling like a babbling fool.

Sandy feels like he's failed his wife. He doesn't know how to help her, or even where to start. Ryan's not the only member in the family to have a hero complex.

He turns to enter the kitchen, grab a cup of coffee, a safe "Dutch courage". What has happened to their marriage, when he can't even face his wife for more than two minutes without feeling a heavy dread settle in his stomach, that he's going to fail her again? His wife's soft tones stop him in his path.

"Sandy? I…I know you're trying to help, but the constant hounding of me isn't helping. I know you mean well…but it just seems like you're making things harder. And I'm not saying that to make you feel bad – I just need some space, to think things out. You know?"

Kirsten looks up pleadingly at Sandy, and Sandy doesn't have the heart to challenge her. He draws her into his arms, cradling her. He rocks her gently, murmuring "I'm sorry sweetie, I'll try."

Another thought comes unbidden into his head. What if this is what Kirsten's like without the alcohol? He met her in a bar, for God's sake, and he'd never seen her at a party without a drink in her hand. Oh god. Please don't let her be like that Fun Bobby guy on Friends.

No. She won't be. Kirsten wasn't under the influence 24/7 for 20 years of marriage. No. This is just a phase. It _has_ to be just a phase.

And as Sandy Cohen grips onto his wife, his head nestled in her golden locks, inhaling the fresh scent of strawberry shampoo, he fervently prays for his wife, for himself. Because God knows who Sandy Cohen is without Kirsten Cohen.

_If you've made it this far, please review and drop me a line, good or bad. Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own the O.C. in any way, shape, or form_

_Thanks for the reviews guys, keep them coming! This is my first plot attempted story, I usually do introspective one-shots (of which my multi-chapter fic Letters is comprised of several). I'm not quite sure what direction this is going in, I'll take it as it comes. This picks up right where we left off.

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_Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away_

_ -The Beatles, Yesterday

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_

Sandy reluctantly made to separate from his wife's embrace, but she clung onto him closer, her nails digging painlessly into his back.

"Can't we just stay like this?" Kirsten murmured, eyes closed peacefully.

"Forever?"

"Yup. Just like this." Kirsten sighed contentedly. Sandy was a little puzzled at his wife's apparent clinginess, but then shrugged as if to say "who am I to argue?" and kissed the crown of her head.

"You know what would be more comfortable?" he asked.

Kirsten tilted her head up to look at him questionably, at which point Sandy, ever the opportunist, sneaked a kiss on her adorable button nose, grabbed her slender hand and led her outside. He absent-mindedly rubbed her hand, twisting her wedding rings as if to stake his claim as husband as he walked. He led her to a sun lounger, at which point she raised her eyes to look at him, not quite sure of his point.

"Sandy, it's dark-"

"Twilight" he interrupted her.

"-and the boys will be home in less than an hour..."

"Shhh…Less talking, less worrying."

Sandy wiggled his eyebrows that seemed to be saying "you know we're right…"

"Oh, fine." Kirsten resigned herself and went to sit down. A gentle hand from Sandy stopped her, as he settled himself comfortably on the lounger, then offered his hand to his beautiful blonde wife, who quickly acquiesced and curled up next to him. Sandy shifted imperceptibly so Kirsten was practically on top of him. She nestled her head on his broad chest comfortably, making little sighing sounds which made Sandy's heart swell. He still couldn't believe, even after twenty years of marriage, that they fit together so well – like the only two pieces in the puzzle that actually fit properly. Ryan's piece hovered around the outside, anchored mainly by Seth, who had a habit of fitting in with anyone who stuck around long enough. Julie Cooper's piece barged in between any and all pieces, and together with Caleb's piece, they wrought havoc on any unsuspecting pieces, leaving some, like Lindsay's, permanently changed.

Okay. Sandy Cohen was officially losing his mind. The analogies were getting ridiculous.

Sandy was saved from his inner ramblings when Kirsten trailed her hand slowly across his chest, her nails gently grazing, up and down, up and down. Hypnotic.

"What are you thinking about Sandy?"

"Aw, babe, you know me. Nothing and everything."

There was a slight pause in the conversation. The moon, large and luminous, was a perfect backdrop for the two lovers. The stars were out in full force, and the gentle lapping of frothy waves dwelled in the background. A slight breeze rippled over the pool, making the water dance a soothing waltz.

"I'm sorry what I said about before. Months of rehab and I still have a hard time opening up." Kirsten laughed nervously. "I know we've got a lot to work on, for me to work on, but is it so wrong that all I want to do is go back to having moments like this?"

She shifted her position so she was leaning her head in her hand, looking, searching in her husband's eyes. Her blonde locks lightly brushed his throat, tickling gently.

"No, honey, not at all!" Sandy protested, slightly more forcefully than her had intended, pulling Kirsten so her head lay just beneath his. He lowered his voice until it was nothing more than a deep rumble, the vibrations making her shiver unconsciously. "You're not the only one you know. There's things I've done, things I've said, that I wish I could take back but I can't. The only way to go is forward."

"But all I want to do is go back to the way things were. Well, not exactly, but you know. I know things weren't perfect, but they were good, and they were _ours_."

"Maybe now is the time to make things _better._ Did you ever think about that? We've all got the motivation to do things when we would have let them lie; we know where we went wrong, babe."

Kirsten buried her head in his chest and groaned. "How is it that you're always right?"

"It's a gift!"

"My husband. Always with the modesty," cried Kirsten with a mock dramatic air. She reached up and slowly, languorously kissed him, lips meeting. The soft smacking sound added to the heady cocktail mix in the air, and it wasn't long before things, as always happened with Mr. and Mrs. Cohen, started to heat up. Lips crashed against each other, tongues duelling. Sandy sat himself up and pulled Kirsten with him, running his arms over her back, her ass, her hair as they fought to get closer and closer, when CRASH!

Sandy and Kirsten jolted apart.

Ryan stood sheepishly on the patio.

"Sorry. We just got back and I tripped over, er, the pool stuff thatSethandIpromisedwe'dtidyupandforgot?" His sentence ended in a question, almost a plea for forgiveness and to get into the safety of the poolhouse as quickly as possible.

Sandy let this one slide over him, and after asking Ryan a few questions about the trip, let him go.

"No rest for the wicked" he said to an amused Kirsten.

_Okay, so no plot really there. But fluff! Look at the fluffiness. I do believe I wrote fluff! _


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own the O.C. Okay!_

_Argh! Results for my AS Levels tomorrow, _not_ looking forward to it, so I have a new chapter I just wrote to take my mind off it. Going to the beach tomorrow afterwards though, if it's still nice, so that's something to look forward to!_

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_When you feel so tired that you can't sleep, stuck in reverse_

_Coldplay, Fix You_

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The bedroom was still, but a sense of unease perforated the room. The soft moonlight bathed the double bed in a gentle glow, spotlighting the cause of the distress.

Kirsten Cohen tossed restlessly. Thoughts whirled inside her mind, each overlapping the last. She felt like screaming at them to shut up, but then, she had only just got out of rehab, she didn't want to be sent to a mental hospital. She was tired, the achy kind of tired, she couldn't get comfortable and her brain wouldn't stop working. She blearily opened her eyes and squinted at the illuminated clock.

"3 o'clock? Great. Just great," muttered Kirsten. She eased herself up, carefully dislodging herself from her husband's embrace and for a moment just watched him sleeping peacefully, envious of what came so easily to him. The silence was punctured by a loud snore, as Sandy settled into the covers.

"And he say I'm bad!" she thought incredulously.

Kirsten debated internally with herself, sighed deeply, then climbed out of the snug bed. It was a moderately warm night for California, so she forfeited her dressing gown and opted to leave herself as she was, in a white strappy top and plaid shorts. After all, who else would see her at three in the morning?

She rubbed her eyes and wearily padded out of the beautiful blue bedroom into the kitchen.

Half asleep, she never noticed the silhouette of another person. As she opened the fridge door, Ryan sat at the table, silently watching, waiting. When he realised that Kirsten had grabbed only orange juice his relief was palpable and he sighed, causing Kirsten to jump. She spun round, brandishing the orange juice carton like a baseball bat.

"Kirsten, it's me, Ryan," he answered quickly, raising his hands in the air to assure her hazy mind that he was no threat.

Kirsten drew out a long breath.

"God Ryan, you frightened me." Her heart was still intent on playing out a drum solo and she willed herself to calm down. Immediately her mothering instincts took over as to what Ryan was doing up at this time of night – or morning, as the case was – and a flurry of questions promptly bombarded Ryan.

"Are you ok? Are you ill? You're not worried about anything are you because if you are –"

Ryan's eyes widened slightly as the barrage of questions continued. _She has to stop sometime, right? I mean, Seth does._

"-I know things have been tough sweetie so if you need to talk-"

Kirsten eventually paused for breath and Ryan jumped in.

"I'm fine, honest. Just thirsty".

"Oh. Ok. Sorry about that Ryan, still a little adrenaline floating around in me. Gave me a start when I saw you lurking."

Kirsten smiled sheepishly. "So you couldn't sleep, huh? Me either."

She looked at Ryan then down at the juice. It wasn't often Ryan had ever wished for a less perceptive mother figure but now was definitely one of those times, as he saw her piece together his train of thought.

"Did you – is that why you- did you think I'd started drinking again?" Kirsten's voice remained carefully neutral. Ryan couldn't see the hurt in her eyes, Kirsten was too clever at hiding her own emotions, but he could sense it, and was quick to respond.

"No! No- well, yeah – no – I mean – I was worried. I'm sorry – I can't help it. My mother – when she went to rehab she was back on the bottle within a week. I guess I needed to see for myself that you weren't like that. Even though I know you're not," he rushed on quickly, "I trust you, you're strong…" He trailed off and was left feeling that his attempts at reassurance had failed miserably.

Kirsten looked down at the table, then look Ryan in the eye.

"I knew it was never going to be easy coming home, and the Dawn comparisons were inevitable," she began, "but I want you to know –"

_Here it comes_, thought Ryan, _she'll take back what she said and blame me after all…_

"-it's not your fault, Ryan, not at all. Sure, we all could have communicated a little better, but you have _never_ failed anyone is this family, least of all me, and don't you dare forget it."

Ryan had become very interested in tracing the contours of the table, and his head shot up at this.

"I failed you, is close to the truth," Kirsten continued. "I was supposed to be the mother you never had and instead I ended up as the one you left behind – _of my own doing Ryan Atwood_". Kirsten's voice hardened and Ryan found himself gulping "Yes ma'am".

Her voice softened. "Don't forget that talk we had, ok? It was important to me and I want you to know that every word I said was true and nothing can or will change my mind on that ok?"

"Yeah". The corner of Ryan's mouth lifted slightly, as if to acknowledge his own insecurities.

"C'mere," whispered Kirsten, and Ryan allowed himself to be enveloped in a hug. If anyone had told him a few years ago he'd accept hugs like these and enjoy them he would have laughed…then punched whoever had said that.

He held tighter, unwilling to believe that he had almost lost the only proper mother he had ever known. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen in Newport. He wasn't a fool, he knew it did happen, but it wasn't supposed to happen to people like the Cohen's. What had Kirsten done to deserve this? Nothing. Yet it still happened.

Kirsten was also silent in Ryan's strong arms, ruminating. She had pretty much made amends with her family; she was back at home where she belonged, so why did she feel as if a part of her was missing?

The answer she was looking for, although she never found it, was that she hadn't made amends with herself.

"Wanna ninja it on the PS2?" Ryan asked, smirking in memory of the colourful language she employed last time they played.

"Sure," replied Kirsten, smiling. Ryan, walking ahead, never noticed that her smile never quite reached her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer**__: I don't own the O.C. At all._

"_The sun rose slowly, as if it wasn't sure it was worth all the effort._

_Terry Pratchett, The Light Fantastic_

_This chapter is dedicated to Cynthia and Ansy Pansy aka Panz (read note at bottom!) who have reviewed every chapter so far and especially to Dogsbody (here's the angst you asked for!) who I think has reviewed every single chapter of every single thing that I have written on Thanks guys!!_

Sandy trudged into the living room, clad in a thick white terry robe and black socks. His hair was unruly as usual, and even though he ran his hand through the mop, his half-hearted attempt to tame it was in vain.

It was half past five in the morning and Sandy was none too happy that he had been woken from his deep slumber. It wasn't that someone had woken him up; it was the lack of someone that had woken him up. Kirsten. Sandy had hoped his restless nights would come to an end once his wife returned home, but alas, they weren't over yet. He had given up on sleep and went in search of his wife. What he found made him smile. If he were a woman (because Sandy was all man) he would've sighed "aww".

Ryan and Kirsten had fallen asleep sometime after their eighth ninja battle. Kirsten was curled up on one end of the sofa half lying, half sitting, her head resting on a propped up cushion. Ryan's head lay on her lap, and one of her hands rested reassuringly on his shoulder. Ryan was stretched out on the sofa one hand still tenuously holding the PS2 controller. The television quietly blared in the background, "GAME OVER" flashing on the screen.

Sandy smiled and gently took the controller from Ryan's hand and turned the television off. Neither of his two favourite blondes stirred. The silence filled the room.

He quietly padded into the kitchen and turned the tap on, getting himself a glass of water. He didn't want to risk disturbing the peace to boil the kettle for a coffee.

Sandy downed the glass in several gulps, then let out a satisfied sigh. A stray hair on his bushy eyebrows obscured his view. He tried to pull it out, with all the finesse of a bear removing a splinter, resulting in him pulling out several hairs before the intended hair came out. Sandy scowled, before rubbing his fingers clean of the offending hairs.

Sandy splayed his hands on the kitchen worktop and gazed out of the window. The sun was beginning to peak out of the horizon, dark blue merging with pinks and oranges and reds and yellows. It reminded him of Seth as a child, covers up to his nose in a brightly coloured Batman duvet hiding a cheeky grin. The glorious rays languidly bathed the backyard in a gentle glow. Shadows still permeated however, stealing corners and sides from behind the sun. Sneakily, they robbed the ground from warmth. Such was the struggle of dawn. Dawn. _Dawn_.

"Now there's Pandora's box, wrapped up neatly in one word," thought Sandy.

He'd thought about Dawn constantly since Kirsten's rehabilitation. It was inevitable really. Too much time on his hands. He'd compared both of them objectively in his lawyer's brain, whilst the husband's mind made sure that Kirsten came out on top. He had to. He couldn't bear to think otherwise. It was the only way he could deal.

After Ryan came to live with the Cohen's, Dawn had managed to elude contact. Finally the elder Cohen's had caught up with her and found her swamped in Jack Daniels and drugs Sandy was both glad and horrified that he didn't recognise what they were.

"_You sshtole him from me," Dawn slurred, a bottle of Jack dangling precariously in one hand, and in the other two fingers propped up a spliff. "My baby's coming back to look after his Mama, yesh he issss…"_

_Sandy had clutched his wife tightly and thanked God and Moses and even Caleb Nichol that the two women were nothing alike. _

_Dawn had carried on mumbling "…took my baby, Ry'll understand what's good for him, my baby will come back, he will…"_

_Suddenly, whilst Sandy was still pondering Dawn had thrown the half empty bottle at Kirsten's head, yelling "Bitch! All your fault! You took my boy!"_

_Sandy's heart had stopped but Kirsten's lightning quick reflexes amazed even herself as she dodged the bottle. She missed narrowly, the bottle shattering on the stained wall behind her, where it finally rested in a million glass tears._

"_Thank God for Yogalates," breathed Sandy, his heart beating a mile a minute._

_Dawn's actions had even surprised her, and she burst into a hysterical drunk sobbing fit. Kirsten had then untangled herself from the embrace she had jumped into with Sandy, and knelt next to the brown bobbled chair Dawn was slumped in. Kirsten was shaken, but her body did not betray her feelings, exuding a calm air._

"_Sit up," ordered Kirsten. Wretched gasps still escaped from the older woman, but Kirsten's sharp words had had the desired effect and the hysterics had ceased._

"_We did _not_ steal your son from you. You _left him_. With us. Now we love your son, and he is _never_ coming back to something like this ever again. You hear me?" Kirsten's harsh words juxtaposed with her calm, resolute tone was unnerving and Dawn couldn't help but listen. She unconsciously leant in closer. "Now you listen to me, we will help you, we will put you in rehab, a _good_ rehab, but if you don't stay sober and drug free, you are _never_ seeing Ryan again. You will not put him through that one more time."_

_With that Kirsten had stood up, brushed her hands on her jeans and took Sandy by the hand. He was still shell shocked by Dawn's actions and the squalor she was living in. Thoughts of what Ryan had had to go through swirled round his mind, until Dawn raised her voice again._

"_AJ! AJ! He'll come home and look after me. He'll look after you too if you know what I mean." Dawn grinned lopsidedly, her eyes narrowed to slits. She slugged back the remains of vodka hidden amongst an array of empty bottles._

"_Come on," muttered Kirsten and led Sandy away._

Needless to say, rehab hadn't worked out as well for Dawn as it had for Kirsten. Sandy had arranged for Dawn to go to Suriak, that was why he had had the brochure on hand for Kirsten when she took to the bottle. Kirsten had signed the cheque for Dawn, and neither of them had mentioned the visit to Ryan. He had already been through enough. Sandy was gladder than ever that Ryan hadn't known; he would have reacted to Kirsten in a totally different way.

"I just stood there and did nothing. Nothing! Just like now," Sandy thought to himself. "I could be the best lawyer in the whole damned world but I froze. In a moment like that. Why? Just like with the situation with Kirsten. It's so easy to ignore the elephant in the room, to refuse to acknowledge that my wife has a problem that I can't take care of. I didn't want to fail her, to fail us. I refused to believe she had a problem for so long, that in the end it just made it worse. I'm so thankful that she never deteriorated to Dawn's level, but maybe she did and just had a more acceptable hidden way. God, I'm so stupid. Even now she's hurting and I just freeze. I can take her into my arms but I don't have a damned clue how to help her."

The lack of sleep and the overwhelming emotions flowing through him made things eventually too much for him. Tears prickled at his eyelids with an intensity that wouldn't recede, and a few choked sobs came out. He balled his hand into a fist and raised it to his mouth to silence him. He rushed outside into the balmy outdoors, tears streaming more freely, and he kicked, kicked,_ kicked _the tyres of their nearest car. He whirled round, pounding his fist into the body of the car, relishing the pain that coursed through him. Emotionally spent, he collapsed on the doorstep and quietly sobbed until his tears ran dry and all that was left was dry heaving.

Six o'clock. Dawn had broken.


	5. Chapter 5

**Afterwards**

**Chapter Five**

_Disclaimer: I do not own the O.C., or anything else you recognise._

Seth lay in bed, Captain Oates clutched tight to his chest as his brown eyes stared unblinkingly into the pale blue wall. Not even his favourite toy could soothe him now. Not when his father was sitting on the porch steps at six in the morning with his head in his hands, not when his mother was a tenuously reformed-alcoholic who'd unwittingly scattered egg-shells under everyone's feet.

Seth had poked his head through the curtains after being awoken by his cell phone's low-battery warning which had pierced even his dream sphere, pitching a thigh onto the windowsill to sit and think and stroke the Captain as he was wont to do, when he had spotted a morose figure on the steps outside the Cohen residence. Thinking the stranger at first to be a tramp, which he would later realize was very unlikely in a gated community, Seth rubbed his eyes only to realise the man was his father. Whose shoulders were shaking. Whose mass of black hair was still tousled from sleep yet appeared all the more unkempt from his hand occasionally running through it. Who was silently weeping.

Seth had sat there at the window, helpless. He didn't know how to help his father. He knew it couldn't be fixed with a hug and a lending of Captain Oates; it couldn't be fixed with his witty repertoire or his talent for drawing. He had felt embarrassed intruding on his father's grief, which he somehow instinctively knew was to do with his mother, but he had also, in that teenaged way, felt embarrassed by his father, and then there was the subsequent mortification that he was feeling this way. So he had slunk back into his bed with his embarrassment, and his own grief at the disintegration of the happy family he had known for so long.

It wasn't permanent. Things would get better. Seth knew no other way. He knew enough about Ryan's family, he thought, and he had been taught the dangers of alcoholism in one of the school's many health lessons. But he believed in the power of the Cohens, however corny that sounded, and he clung on to the belief that eventually all would be well because he couldn't conceive of it being any other way. But he didn't know how to help restore the equilibrium. He wasn't equipped to help his mother, didn't know how to interact with her even these days, and his father's feelings were all too close to Seth's own for Seth to even begin to comprehend tackling before his own. He was still very much the child, and had no clue how to help his parents. Thus he lay on his bed, worrying into the pit of his stomach that not even his beloved superheroes had a cure for this.

After maybe half an hour spent ruminating, Seth was no closer to finding a solution, however temporary. This was way out of his league. He sighed in resignation, then flung his dressing gown on and made his way to the door, hoping for some quality PS2 time, which would enable him to take his frustrations out on those imaginary monsters whom he had some chance of defeating.

Just as he got to his door, a soft knock landed on the other side of the wood.

"Seth?" came a low voice just above a whisper.

Seth opened his door in relief.

"Ryan, dude, fancy some quality time on the Playstation, just you, me, and Grand Theft Auto?"

Ryan scratched his head, looking more to the floor than to Seth.

"Uh…no thanks dude, I've actually been playing it a bit with your mother-"

"Yours too," Seth quickly interjected before the enormity of the scenario hit him. "Wait. You played the PS, not only _without me_, but _with my mother_?"

"_Our_ mother," Ryan shot back at him playfully.

"Whatevs, dude. I can't believe you betrayed me like this."

"Well, since you're up anyway, you can help me with something."

"Ooh, a plan! A plan so cunning you could cut off its tail and call it a weasel?"

"Perhaps, bro, perhaps."

Ryan clapped Seth on the shoulder and manoeuvred him down the corridor.

"We, my friend, are cooking breakfast for Kirsten."

"Wait, what? At no point did I sign up for voluntary work, especially of a manual kind. I come from a long line of businessmen Ryan. We don't cook. We order in."

"Which is why it will be special for Kirsten," Ryan wheedled. "Come on Seth, she needs this."

Seth couldn't deny that his mother needed something. He didn't know if a full course breakfast was that something, but it was better than nothing.

"I think you might just have yourself a plan there, brother-from-another-mother."

Ryan stopped walking and narrowed his eyes.

"Don't ever call me that."

"No? Can't pull it off? It's the Jewfro, I _knew_ it had powers of evil as well as good!"

Ryan turned as if to continue down the stairs but thought the better of it and raised a warning finger to his lips before he moved.

"Kirsten's asleep on the couch. Wake her and I will kill you myself."

"Whoa, dude, I get it. Stealth it is. I can be stealth, I'm very stealth don't you think Ry-oof!"

After a pointed nudge from Ryan, Seth fell silent. As he did though, another thought struck him. He pulled Ryan back a few paces.

"Dad's outside," he whispered.

"Uh, ok?" came the response, Ryan not really understanding.

"Dude, I think he needs this as much as her. Breakfast for two?"

"Breakfast for _four_," Ryan corrected.

Seth smiled. Ryan got it. Kirsten and Sandy weren't the only ones who needed help finding their way. What better way to do it than as a family? Even in dire situations the feeling that you aren't alone can be powerful enough to comfort you for awhile, and at seven o'clock in the morning if anyone needed comfort it was the Cohen family.

So the two set about making themselves busy in the kitchen. Ryan soon had the bacon sizzling, and an egg-related injury led Seth to relegate himself to table-setting duties whilst Ryan assembled the rest of breakfast. The mechanical routine of making breakfast had easily adjusted itself from one household to another, and Ryan idly calculated how long they had before the parentals should be summoned. He noted that Kirsten had not roused from her slumber despite the movement in the kitchen, and her slightly rosy cheeks testified to how deeply she had needed the rest. A rest that was soon to be shattered. Ryan looked at Seth sideways, unable to believe that he could be quiet for so long, when he saw the shiny silver inevitability of cutlery escaping Seth's grasp. As they tumbled towards the floor Ryan half-dived after it, hoping for a few more minutes' peace, but Seth was attempting to re-catch the fallen goods and the two collided, Ryan banging his head against the table, and Seth starting up guiltily as the metal clanged on the hardwood surface. The two froze, watching the sofa. There seemed to be no movement and they simultaneously heaved a sigh of relief.

Then Kirsten's blonde mop appeared over the top, a bleary-eyed mother looking confusedly at her boys. Seth and Ryan stood, attempting to shield the half-prepared kitchen table from her eyes. Kirsten looked at the two, trying to decipher their shifty faux-innocent looks, when…

"Do I smell bacon?"

"Uh…"

"Well…"

"Could you get Dad please? And not look backwards at all? He's outside. No looking now!" Seth called after his mother as she ran a hand through long blonde locks, tightening her dressing-gown and wrinkling her forehead in confusion. She opened the front door, and Seth turned to Ryan.

"Action stations Ryan! Run! It's the final countdown, the - oof!"

"Alright Seth, how about you sit down and try to leave the cutlery exactly as I am arranging it, then try not to touch anything as I serve up the food?"

Ryan's annoyance at Seth waking Kirsten up was dissipating quickly, and it was more from the shock of the loud sound punctuating the silence, so he tried to suppress a smile as Seth whipped him with a dishcloth from his seat and proceeded to put his quickness to the test.

Outside, Kirsten sat down next to Sandy. She knew instinctively that he'd been crying, his posture was one she'd seen very rarely, hunched and defeated and lonely. She put her arm around him, whispering nothings into his ear until he looked at her. The red-rimmed eyes were almost gone, Sandy had stayed out to try and rid himself of these tell-tale signs before he went back in, but somehow she had known. She always knew. He let her take his face in her hands, let her kiss him softly on the lips, let her stare at him with compassion and love and understanding.

"It'll be ok, Sandy," she whispered.

"How?" He looked at her helplessly, wishing he knew.

"Because it always is. It's hard, and it won't be easy, but we'll try. _I'll_ try."

She kissed him on the top of his head and pulled him close to her. She ran her delicate hands through his shaggy locks and he spent a moment revelling in the comfort. He tightened his arms around her small waist, drawing strength from his wife, before shifting to sit up properly. He reciprocated her earlier kiss with a revitalized peck on her lips, a broad smile lighting up his features.

"I feel some Cohen-brand optimism is the order of the day," he smiled, lifting his wife onto her feet as he stood up. He drew her in again for a hug, and they spent a moment swaying on the porch. Sandy drew in a deep breath of hair, savouring Kirsten, because in that moment, there were only them.

He looked at her, a serious look piercing her very soul.

"I love you, and we'll deal with it together, ok? _Together._ Don't shut me out Kirsten, I know you don't always mean to but I need you to help me ok? I need you. I know it won't be easy, I know some days you just wanna curl up in a ball and let the world pass you by, but honey, we've got so much to live for, so much to do, so much to see. There will be days when you're struggling, hell, there'll be days when _I'm _struggling, but together, we're unstoppable. We're unbreakable. We're -"

"I think you should stop before you burst out into song."

"I can't believe you just salted my game."

"What?" Kirsten looked bemusedly at her husband. "Come on, I'm sure I smelled bacon before." She pulled Sandy inside, then turned around. "Thank you," she said earnestly, looking at him square in the eyes. "I couldn't do it without you. You and the boys are why I can get through this."

"It should be for yourself too, Kirsten."

The worried look was back, and Kirsten smiled noncommittally, pulling Sandy further towards the kitchen before Seth sprung out of the door, whether at pains to prevent the parents from entering the kitchen before Ryan could put the final touches on the table, or at pains to escape the wrath of Chef Ryan for leaving the table, who knew? But with a strange bow imitated from some French stereotypical chef which had never quite reached perfection, he announced, in a deep booming voice:

"It's a culinary delight, it's a meal fit for kings, it's…breakfast for the Cohens! If you'd like to follow me…"

Seth continued babbling as they sat down at the table, with Kirsten whispering in Sandy's ear "see, I _told _you there was bacon!", and Sandy approving the bagel selection, and Ryan took a step back to look at the family, happy in this moment. Breakfast was always _their_ time, and the house never felt so alive as it did in the mornings, even when everyone wasn't rushing around. Kirsten noticed Ryan looking and pulled him towards the spare seat next to her, murmuring a heartfelt thank you and squeezing his hand as Seth and Sandy debated the best breakfast delicacy. Ryan smiled as he focused on his plate. Kirsten always knew how to reach him without making a scene, and he was glad she had perked up. He didn't know for how long, but then, none of them did. If Ryan had learnt anything it was that life wasn't about the big moments, no, that was all about reacting. It was in the small moments that he truly lived, and he thought if he could live a lifetime of moments like this, he would die happy. He tucked into his bacon, half-choking as Seth delivered the punch line to an extremely bad joke, before Sandy slapped a manly hand on his back to dislodge the food. A lifetime of ordinary was not a bad choice, indeed.


End file.
